


Changing Hats

by gmariam



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Jack's RAF cap, M/M, Novel: Another Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ianto found Jack's RAF cap in the back of a filing cabinet, he had no idea how important it would become in their relationship with one another. A series of vignettes centered around the hat, inspired by an off-hand comment in the novel 'Another Life.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

" _Jack's RAF cap still hung from a makeshift wall hook, its gold oak leaf motif faintly catching the lamp's light. Ianto had once made the mistake of asking if the hat was fancy dress, and Jack had teased him for a whole week about men in uniform. He'd eventually let Ianto try it on (further gentle mockery), but explained with what sounded like considerable pride that he'd had it custom-made by Tranter the Hatter in Jermyn Street, St James. It had been no more than a moment's Googling for Ianto to discover that this was more teasing – Tranter's had never reopened after a V1 had razed the business to the ground in 1944."_

_~Peter Anghelides "Another Life."_

* * *

I.

It some ways, it started with a hat.

Although, if he were honest, it started long before that, from the moment he met Jack Harkness in a dark park, fighting off Weevils and dressed as a rent boy. But he'd been playing a part then, and he'd been able to ignore it, first due to his desperation, and later, because of anxious fear. He'd been focused on helping Lisa and nothing else, not the sudden awakening of desire and attraction to the man beneath him, especially not one he'd been trying to con into giving him a job. In fact, he'd told himself it was only because he was still in shock that he'd felt anything at all toward the charismatic leader of Torchwood Three when they had caught the pteranodon that had landed him a job. He'd just survived the downfall of Torchwood One, after all, and his girlfriend was slowly dying in the stranglehold of the metal monsters who had slaughtered over seven hundred of his coworkers.

Definitely shock.

And then he'd been consumed with getting Lisa into the Hub, with setting up her life support and covering his tracks, all while trying to perform his own tedious duties with a clear case of PTSD that he refused to acknowledge. Over his first month in Cardiff, he succeeded at it all so well that he started to settle into a routine. He grew comfortable with it, and even liked it. Oh, he was vaguely aware that he was sublimating, grossly overworking to compensate for the excruciating emotional torment he buried and refused to feel—fear, anger, loss, confusion, resentment—but he stuck to his schedule and worked it all away.

Until the day he started to reorganize some files in Jack's office, and he found the hat.

It was a grey wool cap, which he recognized it as an RAF officer's hat. He found it in the back of a filing cabinet, carefully boxed but apparently forgotten from the haphazard manner it had been wedged into the cabinet. When he opened the box, he was struck immediately by the outdated design and immaculate condition of the hat. He knew it was old because his grandfather had had one. Staring at the worn material as his hands stroked lightly over the golden eagle, he was tempted to try it on, but fought the impulse, setting it aside so that he could ask Jack about it later. He assumed it was from some former head of Torchwood Three and half wondered if Jack might let him have it, especially if he threw in some flirting with the request.

Any thoughts of claiming it evaporated the moment Jack walked in and saw it sitting on his desk. His face lit up and he practically skipped over to the hat. "You found it!" he exclaimed. Picking it up with reverence, he ran his fingers over the brim as if becoming familiar with it after a long absence.

"Yes, sir," Ianto replied, hiding his disappointment. It wasn't that difficult because Jack was obviously so happy about the hat, and it pleased Ianto to have found something the captain had missed. "I found it in the back of a filing cabinet. Bottom drawer, under 'old military headwear'."

Jacks lips quirked. "Of course it was. You know, I've looked for this a dozen times and thought it was lost for good."

"Is it yours then, sir?" Ianto asked. He was always curious about such things, but seeing Jack so glad to have it back made him exceptionally curious. It must have had personal meaning to the captain. "Family heirloom?"

"Not really, no," Jack replied.

"I assumed it belonged to a former Torchwood leader, perhaps from the forties or fifties."

Jack finally glanced up and grinned. He placed it on his head at a crooked angle. Ianto raised an eyebrow, and Jack straightened it, standing tall as if at attention. "Nope, all mine," he offered.

"You served?" Ianto asked in surprise. He regretted his tone of voice immediately. Why should he be surprised? Jack did have an air of the military about him, even if it was an irreverent most of the time, especially when it came to authority other than his own.

"I did," Jack replied. He took off the hat and studied it once more. He smiled at Ianto, not a big blinding smile, but the softer, more genuine one that Ianto found he preferred. "Thank you for finding it. I thought I'd lost it years ago."

"You're welcome," Ianto replied. He hesitated, but decided to take a small risk. Jack rarely offered personal information to the team—that had been obvious from the start—but Ianto found himself hoping perhaps Jack would share something with him in exchange for finding the hat. "It seems a bit...vintage for your service, if I may say so, sir."

"You mean, I look too good to have worn a hat this old?" Jack teased. Ianto refused to blush.

"It is at least sixty years old, if I'm not mistaken," he replied.

"Still mine," Jack replied, deftly avoiding the question. Sometimes Ianto hated it when Jack did that—avoided, deflected, or completely ignored the team's questions at least six times a day. Ianto knew he was skirting the edge of personal and private, but what would it hurt Jack to answer a question about himself for once? To share a bit of his military history? Ianto found himself wanting to know.

Then again, he was keeping his own secrets, and so he didn't push. Just poked and prodded a bit when he could.

"Is it fancy dress, then?" he asked. Jack looked up and grinned.

"Why, got a thing for men in fancy dress?" he asked. He placed it on his head again and stepped closer to Ianto. "Because I could always pull out the rest of my uniform."

"Is it filed under H for harassment, perhaps?" Ianto offered. Jack laughed.

"S for sexy soldier," Jack replied. "And it's not harassment when you're clearly interested, Ianto."

"My grandfather served as a logistics officer." Ianto tried to keep his voice as dry as he possibly could. "My interest is purely academic."

"Of course," Jack murmured, though he was clearly unconvinced.

"It's a fine hat, sir. I'm glad that it made its way back to its rightful owner."

"So am I," said Jack. "And I'd be happy to thank you more thoroughly."

"I'll give myself a Christmas bonus next time I work on the budget."

"Or I could wear it out to dinner and you could stare at me the entire time," Jack offered with small leer, the one the rest of the team ignored. Sometimes Ianto wondered if it weren't half serious.

"Staring at an officer in uniform would be impolite and disrespectful." He held back a smile. He enjoyed these bursts of banter with Jack, but didn't want the other man to know. It was part of the game, that Ianto stay dry and uninterested, and sometimes it was harder than he'd admit. Jack could be both charming and clever, and their conversations were usually a welcome diversion from the black thoughts that otherwise clouded Ianto's mind.

"I don't mind," said Jack.

"I have manners, sir," Ianto replied. "And your suggestion would require going out to dinner together."

"You do eat, don't you?" asked Jack, eyes sparkling.

"Only when I'm hungry, sir." Jack pretended to be wounded, hands clutched over his chest. It was so lighthearted and comical that Ianto allowed himself to smile, earning a broad grin from Jack in return.

"Maybe I'll let you take the hat to dinner then," Jack teased. Ianto considered it, then shook his head.

"Too strange even for Torchwood. Speaking of which, I should probably get back to that thing called work. Who know what else I'll find around here if I dig through enough filing cabinets."

A funny look crossed Jack's face, one that Ianto filed in the 'More strange things about my boss' folder in his head. As he turned to leave, Jack called out to him. "Let me know if you find anything interesting!" He paused, his voice sounding more serious. "Especially if it's of a more sensitive nature."

Ianto turned and nodded. "Of course, sir. And the hat? Was that sensitive?"

Jack smiled, and it seemed to Ianto that it was a weary, almost sad smile now. "Not really. Just personal."

"I'll be discreet if I find any more sixty-year-old uniforms lying around."

"Don't keep 'em for yourself!" Jack called as he left. "I'm onto you, Ianto Jones!"

Ianto shook his head and smiled to himself as he left the office.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you on Tumblr, you may remember this quotation from 'Another Life' floating around about Jack's RAF cap. I was immediately inspired to write this first part, but then stalled out on the rest. Inspiration has returned, with many thanks to Avaantares for much of it! Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

II.

It was a month later when Ianto encountered the hat again. Jack had kept it out of the box, placing it in a clear position of pride on a hook by his desk. Ianto imagined Jack glancing at it often, even running his fingers along the brim, given his reaction when he'd seen it again. Jack had been so glad to see the hat, he had even offered to take Ianto out to dinner as a thank you. Ianto had of course turned him down; it was one thing to occasionally share a meal with Jack at work, but quite another to have dinner with his flirtatious boss when it almost sounded like a date.

Which was completely wrong, Ianto knew. Jack flirted with everyone in Cardiff, had breakfast, lunch, and dinner with everyone on the team. It was only Ianto's overactive mind imagining the suggestion to be anything more than an expression of gratitude. That and the fact that he hadn't been on a date in months, not with all his hopes and dreams locked up in the basement, desperate to be healed. Ianto wanted nothing more than a dinner at a nice restaurant…with his girlfriend, free of wires and metal. Not his boss. Right?

Pondering the increasingly complicated answer to that question as he searched for some files on Jack's desk, Ianto found himself almost mesmerized by the hat, remembering it perched precariously on Jack's head, wondering what it would feel like on his own. Ianto had never identified with any particular clothing kinks, but was starting to wonder about it now. He hadn't been dropping a line when he'd first met Jack in the park; he loved Jack's greatcoat and how larger-than-life and heroic it made the captain appear to the world. He knew now, after several months at the Hub, that there was more to Jack, but he still appreciated the image. It wasn't that much unlike the suits Ianto wore, a set of armor against the world, a way to project confidence he didn't feel and hide the fear and anxiety that sat like a stone in his gut. He wondered if Jack used the coat the same way, suspected he did. Maybe it was one reason they worked well together. Flirted so much.

Reaching out toward the hat, Ianto ran a finger along the brim, so lost in thought he didn't hear anyone come into the office until Jack cleared his throat behind him. Whirling around, he found his boss grinning behind him, arms crossed over his chest and a literal twinkle in his eye.

"So not just the coat, but the hat too," Jack said.

"Purely academic," Ianto offered, clearing his throat when his words came out dry and croaked. Jack's grin, if possible, grew wider.

"Right," he drawled, moving closer, a bit like a panther stalking its prey. "Your grandfather had one."

"He did. Just the hat, no greatcoat." Ianto stared at Jack a moment too long, then abruptly moved away toward the door, grabbing a set of files he saw on the desk and hoping they were the right ones. "My apologies for disturbing you, I had intended to do some filing."

"But you got distracted," Jack teased. Ianto sighed and tried to speak, though he was at a loss for words and only nodded, his feet stuck just before the doorway.

"Come here," said Jack, his voice firm.

"Sir?" asked Ianto. Jack moved around his desk and took down the hat.

"Come. Here."

Ianto hesitated, glancing over his shoulder into the Hub. Jack's shark grin appeared.

"Everyone's gone home except you again," Jack told him, his voice dropping almost seductively. Ianto shook his head of the very thought of Jack trying to seduce him. And with a hat, of all things! Of course not. And he wasn't interested.

"I should probably be going as well then," Ianto replied. He realized too late that he'd dropped the 'sir', leaving Jack a huge opening with his lack of formality.

"Not yet," said Jack. "Indulge me for a moment."

Again Ianto dropped the formality, this time out of desperation. "Jack, I need to—"

"You need to put this on," Jack said, holding out the hat. "Get it out of your system."

Ianto felt his eyes widen in disbelief. "I don't need to get anything out of my system!"

Jack took a step closer. He raised the hat, but stopped just shy of putting it on Ianto's head. "Turn around," he murmured.

"Why?" asked Ianto, even though it was perfectly obvious. Jack shook his head with a laugh and turned Ianto around so he was facing the window of Jack's office. And then he placed the RAF hat on Ianto's head, adjusting it before Ianto felt him step back.

He gazed at himself in the glass, tilting his head and unable to resist smiling. It was nice, but it wasn't really him. His grandfather had owned such a hat, and Ianto had loved it when he'd brought it out to tell stories, perching it on Ianto's head while he talked. It was the memories of his grandfather that entranced him more than the thought of wearing the hat himself. Stories of serving, of fighting, of what the hat meant to his grandfather and represented to others: honor, bravery, sacrifice. And if truth be told, how all of that related to Jack.

Jack stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face. He was teasing, but Ianto thought he saw gentle affection there as well. If he'd been looking for anything else…and of course he wasn't…he set it aside and took the hat from his head. He thought about placing it on Jack's head but decided the moment was already strangely intimate enough, so he simply held it out.

"It's more your style, sir," he said softly. Jack raised an eyebrow and dropped it on his own head, setting it once again at a rakish angle. Ianto couldn't help but smile and nod.

"You like it," Jack murmured. Ianto tried to shrug it off.

"It suits you," Ianto said. "Fits you well." Jack took it off and twirled it a few times.

"I should hope so," he said. "I had it custom made in St. James. Tranter the Hatter."

Ianto filed away the information as something to look up later, to satisfy his curiosity.

"Offer's still on the table for that dinner," Jack said casually, though watching him carefully.

"With the hat?" Ianto asked lightly. "Still a bit weird, unless it's actually an alien hat that likes fish and chips. I don't think anyone in Cardiff would bat an eye at that."

"I like fish and chips," Jack winked. "Come on, are you hungry?"

"Thanks, but I—"

"Should go?" asked Jack. He stepped back. "You should eat first. You don't eat enough. So fish and chips at Mervyns?"

"Jack." Ianto knew he should say no, but then wondered why he was so determined to resist. Because he thought Jack was asking him on a date? Of course he wasn't, the idea was absurd. Because he _wanted_ Jack to ask him on a date? Definitely not, even if being asked would be nice, and an actual date even nicer. Because he felt like having dinner with Jack was betraying Lisa? Maybe. Because the idea of a platonic dinner with Jack was difficult to contemplate when he had non-platonic thoughts about Jack? Oh yes.

But Jack was his boss, looking to share a casual meal after work and nothing more. Besides, Ianto loved Lisa and being attracted to Jack…which he wasn't, hats and coats aside… didn't mean he'd act on it, and it certainly didn't mean he couldn't eat dinner with him. As a coworker.

"Ianto," Jack gently mocked him. He held the hat up to his chin and affected a ridiculously low voice as he wagged it up and down. "Feed me, Ianto. Feed me."

Ianto burst out laughing. "All right, fine! But the hat stays here."

It went back on Jack's head. "You sure about that? I know you have a thing for men in uniform."

Ianto reached out and took it off, hanging it back up and enjoying the look of surprise on Jack's face. "Yes, I'm sure about it, and no, I do not have a thing for men in uniform." He turned and walked toward the door, stopping at the threshold. "But I do love the coat, so you can still wear that."

He left the office for his work station, Jack laughing behind him. He wished he could check on Lisa before leaving, as he wasn't sure he'd be able to come up with a reason to return to the Hub. But he'd seen to her just before entering Jack's office and had made sure she'd enough medication for the night. If he felt guilty for going out while she slept, he put it aside. It was dinner and nothing more. Jack was thanking him for finding the hat, and Ianto was quite glad that he had.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Avaantares, who shared a lovely drawing of Ianto trying on the hat, with Jack standing behind him. It got me going again and I hope you enjoyed this scene!


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Lisa was gone, dead and buried a month. Ianto both dreaded and yearned to return to work now that his suspension was over. It was the place where she'd died, where she'd been murdered (or saved, a voice whispered from his other shoulder), but it was also all he had. Torchwood was all he knew, and all he wanted. Starting over, moving on—it wasn't for him. Torchwood had made him what he was, so it could keep him and finish him off when it was good and ready.

He walked idly down a side street toward his flat, a small bag of groceries in his hand. It would probably be his last home cooked meal for a while, unless things had slowed down while he'd been gone. Then again, he had no reason to stay late at the Hub, no one to check on and take care of. Maybe he'd be able to leave at a decent hour when things were quiet. Maybe he could keep visiting his local, make friends, live a semi-normal life again.

Or maybe he'd stay late and work himself to exhaustion. He felt the pull, the need to do everything he possibly could to redeem himself, as well as the desperate desire to hide in the archives and sort the chaos into order alone in the dark. Because maybe his professional life would bleed over into his personal life; maybe if he could make sense of one, the other would follow.

Something caught his eye as he walked by a large glass window, and he stepped back to gaze inside. It was an antique shop, and a fairly upscale one from what he could tell. An ornate carved chair sat in the window, next to a cherry table set with old china and crystal. Behind it was a wooden coat stand, and hanging from the right hook was a very familiar looking hat. An RAF officer's cap that Ianto knew was from World War II.

He stood on the pavement and stared at it, half wanting to go inside and see it. But it was late on a Sunday afternoon and the shop was closed, and Ianto was glad. He couldn't get hung up over a hat. He wasn't kidding himself anymore that it was about his grandfather, it was definitely about Jack too—about the coat, and the hat, and the man. Of course, a part of Ianto loathed the man at that moment. It would be hard to go back to work and face him every day after what had happened the night Lisa had died. Yet at the same time, many of Ianto's feelings about Jack hadn't changed. He still respected Jack as their leader, admired him as person, and in some ways was grateful to him for not only putting Lisa out of her misery, but for not executing Ianto on the spot. None of which took into account anything he may have thought about Jack as an exceptionally handsome man with an amazing coat.

And an equally remarkable hat. Ianto remembered the night, only two months ago, when Jack had let him try it on. How ridiculous it had looked on him, and how right it had looked on Jack. How they'd enjoyed a dinner of fish and chips together along with great deal of banter and flirting. How things had changed between them after that, with gentle teasing laced with growing affection, innocent touches igniting a growing attraction. More trust, shattered in a millisecond the moment Ianto's secret had been revealed and Jack had held his gun to Ianto's head.

He hated losing Lisa, but she was gone and he was still alive. He hated losing Jack's friendship and trust because Jack wasn't gone. Ianto would have to see him the next day and every day after, and he wasn't sure he could face waking up and dragging himself to the Hub if Jack hated him. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, when Ianto had first found the hat and Jack had let him try it on. He doubted they ever would.

Staring at the grey hat in the window, Ianto sighed and turned for home. It would do him no good to worry about any of it now. The next day would bring answers. Either he would settle back into a bearable existence at Torchwood and work himself to death, or he would Retcon himself out of service. It was that simple.

Mind made up, Ianto also decided that whatever happened, he would return to the shop later in the week to purchase the hat. It would be a reminder to him. Of what, he wasn't sure, but he felt inexplicably tied to the old hat and all it seemed to symbolize.

* * *

He never went back for the hat.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one, I know. Such is the nature of short scenes like these.


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

Ianto was angry. He felt like he had a right to be angry, even though no great wrong had been done him, and he hadn't experienced the loss that Jack obviously felt so keenly. Yes, John Ellis had stolen his car and then committed suicide in it, but he hadn't done it to hurt Ianto. It was Jack whom he was upset with. Jack, who had clearly risked his life to help John. Jack, who was pale and red-eyed and suffering. Jack, who had offered little explanation, who had waved him home with nothing but the promise of a new car in the morning.

He didn't want a new car. He wanted answers. What had really happened, and why had it hit Jack so hard? Jack was not talking, however, and Ianto had little choice but to leave. How he'd get home, he wasn't sure. Probably call a cab. Even more annoyed, he grabbed his coat and took out his phone to call for a ride. Before dialing, he glanced one last time at Jack's office, but Jack had retreated to his bunker. A single lamp was on, casting its shadows on the walls, highlighting the grey RAF cap still hanging in its place of pride on the wall.

As he gazed at the cap, things started to make a hazy sort of sense: Jack's intense interest in John's well-being; his feelings of loss and failure over John's suicide; his sense of timelessness, from the cap to the coat to the braces, not to mention the things he said, whether in jest or in passing. It was a thought Ianto had considered before, but had passed over, explaining away Jack's quirks as part of the man and his image, but nothing more. Nothing significant.

Now Ianto saw things differently. Adding additional pieces to the puzzle presented a new picture. Was Jack from another time, like John Ellis? Taken from his own time to end up in Cardiff? It seemed impossible, but explained so much. What had Sherlock Holmes once told John Watson? Something about the impossible being possible when there were no other explanations left.

Of course, it was possible that Jack looked at John as a father figure and felt the loss as that of a family member. That Jack's interest in history was down to a grandfather who'd served, like Ianto. That Jack carefully crafted his words to present the image he wanted the world to see. But then how did he know so much about space, about alien technology? Why did he claim to own a sixty-year old custom made hat and carry an equally outdated Webley?

Ianto was staring at the hat, his mind racing, when suddenly Jack appeared in the window of his office, dressed in a white shirt and trousers, and frowning when he saw Ianto still in the Hub, jacket in his hands. Ianto swore under his breath, caught out staring at the hat again.

Jack glanced behind him, saw the hat, and grinned, though it was clearly forced. He stepped out of the office and cocked his head. "Still stuck on that hat, I see."

"Not really," Ianto offered as casually as he could. "Just thinking about what it means."

"How so?" Jack asked. He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe, trying to look relaxed but instead appearing wary. Ianto pulled on his coat, taking the time to gather his thoughts, buttoning it slowly as if using the garment to protect himself. He finally looked up and met Jack's gaze.

"You're like him, aren't you?" Ianto asked without preamble. "Out of your time."

Jack froze, eyes wide, and the silence stretched between them, confirming Ianto's suspicion. And he found that now that he knew, it didn't bother him as much as he thought it might. All he felt was a strange sense of relief, that so many things made sense, that he finally knew something real about Jack. He also felt a deep sadness; he couldn't relate, but he could imagine how hard it was for Jack to be out of his time after watching John Ellis struggle.

"I think we've all wondered," Ianto continued. "But never really thought it was possible. Just put everything down to you being uniquely you. But the coat, the hat, the braces...the gun, all the stories…now it makes sense. You're from another time. Are you from the past, then? From back then?" He nodded toward Jack's office and the World War II cap hanging on the wall.

Jack was staring at him, a mixture of fear and anger and what looked like relief on his face. He shook his head, but didn't say anything. Ianto sighed.

"Right. Still keeping secrets. Well, you should know I won't say anything, won't tell the others. But if you—"

"I'm from the future," Jack interrupted abruptly. "Pretty far in the future."

"Oh." Now it was Ianto's turn to be struck speechless. "I see. Wow. You're from the future. Of course you are."

"Really?" asked Jack, a confused look coloring his face.

"Well, it certainly explains how you know so much about all the things we see and do around here," Ianto replied. "But not the coat and…and all the other stuff." He motioned at Jack in a vague way.

Jack nodded slowly. "I've traveled a lot through time. I liked the forties, hence the coat and all the other stuff."

"So…" Ianto hesitated. He knew that at any moment Jack would stop talking, refuse to say anything else. It was inevitable. But he chanced another question. "How did you end up here? 21st century Cardiff of all places?"

Jack eyed him warily and looked down at the floor. "It's a long story, and I can't tell you everything," he started, and held up a hand when Ianto opened his mouth. "Because I don't know all of it myself, but also because of timelines. Think about it. I'm from the future. I have to be careful very about what I say and do so I don't change the future I came from."

"Right." Ianto swallowed his disappointment because it made sense. He'd assumed Jack was from the past and could share more, but he understood the implications of being from the future. In some ways it made Jack's situation even more difficult than the travelers from the _Sky Gypsy_. Jack didn't have to adjust to confusing new technology, strange new societal norms; Jack had to work with old unfamiliar technology, primitive customs and norms, and all the while keeping quiet about the advances he knew would happen one day.

"I don't even know what to say," Ianto said. "But I understand a lot more about you…and about John Ellis now."

Jack looked surprised and nodded. "It's hard, knowing I couldn't help him adjust."

"How did you adjust?" Ianto asked before he could help it, then backtracked. "Never mind, that's none of my business. You did what you could, Jack. It's not your fault he couldn't adapt."

Jack was still watching him a bit warily. "Maybe, but it doesn't make it any easier."

"It's never easy losing people," Ianto replied softly.

"I've lost people who haven't even been born yet," Jack murmured, his eyes gone distant. Ianto looked away, unable to bear the sadness and loss in Jack's face. To his surprise, it was Jack who spoke next.

"I'm sorry about your car," he said.

"It's not your fault," said Ianto. "Christmas present to myself, I suppose."

Jack's eyes went wide for a moment, then he hung his head and laughed through his nose. "I almost forgot it was Christmas. Happy Christmas."

Ianto nodded. "You too." He forced himself to meet Jack's gaze. "Will you be all right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Jack said, but he sounded weary. "Always am."

"If you need anything," Ianto started, but Jack shook his head.

"No, go home. It's a holiday. You should sleep. Or celebrate. I'll be fine."

"Jack." He waited until Jack looked at him. "Call me if you need anything, all right?"

Jack nodded. He looked so lonely, Ianto considered asking if Jack wanted him to stay, or if he wanted to come back to Ianto's flat. But he also needed time to process everything that had happened that night, and he wondered if Jack needed the same, suspected he did.

"You could come by the flat tomorrow, if you're not too busy," he said, the words tripping inelegantly from his mouth on impulse. "For dinner, as long as you don't mind something mind-numbingly simple like pasta with red sauce."

Jack's face transformed, and he nodded with a huge smile. "I'd like that," he said, his voice genuine and warm. "Thank you."

"Right," said Ianto, trying not to act as flustered as he felt by Jack's quick and unexpected acceptance. "Then say late afternoon, maybe 5? Rift willing?"

"Rift willing," Jack repeated. "I'll be there. Should I bring the hat?" he teased, apparently unable to resist. Ianto granted him an eye roll and was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

"No, but a bottle of wine might be nice," he replied, surprised at his boldness. Jack gave him a small salute.

"I'll bring two. See you tomorrow, Ianto."

Ianto nodded. "Good night, Jack."

He turned and left, calling for a cab in the lift. As he waited outside the tourist office, he realized he was looking forward to the next day. He'd see his mum and sister in the morning, find an open shop where he could pick up some groceries, and throw together some sort of pasta dish. It wasn't the most traditional of Welsh Christmas meals, but he wasn't the best cook, having had little experience beyond the basics and one or two dishes he'd learned from his mum and Lisa.

But then again, Jack wasn't the most traditional of…well, anything. Guest, boss, lover. He was a time-traveler from the future, enamored of the 1940s. And he was coming over for Christmas dinner. There was little doubt in Ianto's mind that they'd end up in bed, but he hoped that for a while at least, Jack was a little less lonely in this time.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to write things that are possible within the context of the show and the characters as I see them from what the show presented us. Do I think something like this really happened, that Ianto figured out some of these things about Jack and that Jack actually admitted to them? Wishful thinking, perhaps. But I'd like to believe there were moments like these when Jack and Ianto connected through more than sex, especially during that first season. I hope you enjoyed this moment.


	5. Chapter 5

V.

Jack had been gone for six weeks.

Ianto wanted to believe that Jack was coming back, but it seemed unlikely after so long with no word, and Ianto had started to lose hope. They'd pieced things together, after all, and the picture wasn't a particularly encouraging one. Ianto had known Jack was from the future. After watching him run across the Plass and throw himself at a blue police box, it was obvious that Jack had gone with the Doctor. The right kind of doctor, Gwen had said. It appeared that Jack's doctor was _the_ Doctor—the one Torchwood had been charged with capturing, the one who traveled through time.

The complex picture that was Jack began to make even more sense, while raising still more questions. Jack was from another time, and he knew the Doctor, a known time-traveler, so it made sense that he would leave with the Doctor to return to his own time. Or perhaps he had gone back to the 1940s, to the time he'd loved. To the man he'd fallen for at the dance hall.

Ianto shook his head of that particular thought, anger and resentment blossoming in his chest every time he thought about what Owen had said, what Tosh had told him. Instead he focused on the facts: Jack was a time traveler from the future, and he had left the planet with another time traveler. He could be anywhere, anytime. There was no reason to believe Jack would come back to a relatively small, unimportant city in the 21st century. Why would he, after everything that had happened? They had to continue without him.

It had been a struggle at first, but slowly they'd begun to get a grip and manage the Hub with just the four of them. There were even days when Ianto felt the smallest bit of hope and pride, that they'd survived so far, saved lives, and might even make it few more weeks on their own before the world inevitably ended on their watch.

And then there were days like the one they'd just had, days where they were driven off their feet chasing Weevils and retrieving space junk and trying to stop an invasion of alien hamsters while resettling a Clemoriax whose ship had fallen through the Rift and fending off government officials like Harold Saxon. Gwen had called Rhys to pick her up, nursing a sore ankle and too burnt out to drive, while Owen had taken Tosh home after patching up her latest injury courtesy of a very angry hamster. And Ianto…he was beyond exhausted. He'd been awake for thirty-six hours straight and could probably fall asleep standing up.

He'd stayed behind thinking he'd finish the paperwork and clean up before leaving, just so there was less in the morning, but the words blurred on the page, and he stumbled when he tried to walk across the Hub for a bin bag. So he retreated to Jack's office to grab his coat, having taken to leaving it there on the coat rack since he spent a good deal of time at Jack's desk forging the man's signatures and making excuses for his absence to the government bureaucrats who called looking for him.

Not to mention managing Flat Holm. Which he didn't even want to think about anymore.

Pulling on his coat, his eye caught the grey officer's cap still hanging on the wall. He walked over and ran a hand across the scratchy wool, as he tended to do quite often now. It was a tangible connection to Jack, a reminder of the man who'd left them and a confirmation of who he was. For Ianto, it helped him remember Jack not as someone who had run off without a word or explanation, but as a brave man who had served in the war, a time traveler now returned to his own time.

Which didn't always lessen the anger or resentment, that Jack had kept so many secrets, that he had left them so abruptly, without even saying goodbye. Maybe if he'd told them even the tiniest bit more, he could have prepared them for his departure and not left them floundering. Then again, they had betrayed him, so Jack probably didn't feel much regret about leaving them so suddenly on their own.

Sometimes Ianto ran a finger along the golden eagle and told himself he had no right to be angry at Jack after what they'd done—after what he himself had done. He'd betrayed Jack more than any of them—first with Lisa, then with the Savior, finally with the Rift. And he'd been sleeping with Jack during the last, had stood there and watched as Owen shot him. Sometimes the hat reminded him of Jack, but it also reminded Ianto of his failures and reset his determination to make things right.

Walking over to the cap, he took it off the hook and gently caressed the old wool. It was on hard days like this when, guilt and anger aside, he simply missed Jack. He missed their leader and his missed his lover. He missed chasing Weevils with Jack and he missed tumbling into bed after. He even missed Jack teasing him about the hat and men in uniforms.

Standing in Jack's office, hat in hand, he made an impulsive decision. Jack was gone and the constant reminders of his presence were distracting and often upsetting. The girls frequently went glassy-eyed, hiding their tears, though Gwen just as often grew angry and cursed Jack for leaving them. Tomorrow Ianto would clean out Jack's office. He'd move Jack's personal belongings down to the bunker below, safe and out of sight. And he'd give that three months before moving it to storage.

Jack was gone and the rest of them had to carry on without him, including Ianto. It occurred to him that meant moving on physically as well as emotionally. It would be hard, given his strong attraction to Jack and the brilliant sex they'd shared over the months they'd been sleeping together, but it was time. Ianto felt tense, stuck, alone. Before, Jack had been a balm at the end of a difficult day, but he was gone and Ianto had nothing, no one. He needed something more in his life, even something as basic as a warm body to lose himself with on cold, lonely nights.

He would keep the hat, though. Jack wasn't there and wasn't coming back; he wouldn't miss it. But Ianto could at least remember the man by it, remember their brief time together. If by some miracle Jack did come back to them, then Ianto would return the hat and Jack would enjoy teasing him about it, and maybe things would go back to normal, whatever that was.

Until then, it was time to move on with a new normal. Tomorrow he would clear out the office, and then maybe find a new local and meet someone he could relax with after hours. Punch drunk with fatigue, Ianto placed the cap on his head and left for home, his heart feeling both lighter and sad.

* * *

He never did clear out Jack's office, nor did he make it to the pub much either.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter one, to get us through the in-betweens. Just a few more to go, thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

It had been a good night, remarkably free of anything having to do with Torchwood, which probably meant that at any moment things would go tits up and some catastrophe would require their immediate assistance once more.

Jack had asked him out on a date weeks ago, and although they had tried twice already, both had been interrupted by calls. Which had been fine with Ianto, because the first date in particular had been incredibly awkward for too many reasons to count. The second had been even worse after the disaster of the first, but Jack had been determined to make good on his offer of a date, and apparently the third time was the charm.

For now.

Jack had somehow convinced Tosh and Owen to mind the Hub, eventually confessing that he'd bribed them with a weekend off if they didn't call Jack or Ianto unless the world was actually ending. Which meant they must have had some inkling of what was going on, and Ianto wasn't sure how he felt about that. Shagging the boss was one thing; dating Jack was quite another, and he knew Owen would take the piss as soon as he could.

Still, it had gone well so far. No one had called from the Hub, and Jack had planned a perfect evening. They'd started with drinks and a delicious dinner at one of the most upscale restaurants in town. While Ianto often felt out of place at such restaurants, he found instead that he quite liked it. Yes, he was a pub and a pint kind of guy, but this…this he could get used to. Elegant table settings, dim lighting and candles, an expert sommelier, incredibly polite waitstaff, and of course amazing food and wine: what wasn't there to like? And somehow, in spite of the awkwardness of their first two attempts, he and Jack were able to relax and enjoy spending time together. Not as coworkers, and not only as friends, but as something more. A real date.

Afterward, Jack had taken him to an outdoor symphony concert. It had been a beautiful evening, and Ianto had enjoyed the selections of light classical music and showtunes tremendously. They'd stopped for a late dessert at an outdoor café before Jack had offered to drive Ianto home. The night had gone so well that Ianto finally felt comfortable moving forward with Jack again and had invited him up to his flat for a drink.

Now he sat at the breakfast bar with a martini in his hands, waiting for Jack to return from the bathroom and thinking about how well the night had gone. He was still half expecting a call from the Hub, but was glad to have had the night to themselves. And he was looking forward to extending that night as well.

He was so lost in his thoughts that Jack managed to come up behind him and place something on Ianto's head. Jack's RAF cap. The one Ianto had taken for himself from the Hub weeks ago. The one he'd hung on his closet door and had completely forgot about. The one now perched on his head as Jack chuckled softly behind him and Ianto felt his face flush in embarrassment.

"You stole my hat," Jack teased.

Ianto grabbed it from his head as quickly as he could, standing and facing Jack, handing the hat back to him.

"I borrowed it," he said. "And now I can return it. I apologize for not doing so sooner."

Jack grinned, took the hat, and placed it on the counter. "It's fine. I knew you liked it. It's the uniform thing."

Ianto rolled his eyes, grabbed his drink, and knocked back half. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"It's not that," he murmured, handing Jack the other martini.

"Costume party?" Jack asked. Ianto knew Jack was teasing, he did, but at the same time his embarrassment at having been caught with the hat coupled with his reasons for bringing it home, and his words came out harsher than he intended for at the end of a wonderful night.

"Of course not," he said with a weary sigh. "I took it to remember you, Jack. I didn't think you were coming back."

And just like that, the mood between them shattered.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered, dropping his head to stare into his drink.

"I know," Ianto replied, running a hand through his hair. "And I'm sorry I said that. I don't want things to end this way, because tonight was great, it really was."

Jack nodded, but his eyes were sad. "I had an amazing time," he said, clearing his throat and taking a drink. "I hope we can do it again."

Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. "I'd like that."

"Really?" Jack asked, sounding skeptical.

"Really," Ianto said. "Look, I understand why you left and I'm even starting to believe why you came back." He held up a hand when Jack started to protest. "And I'm glad you're back. I enjoyed the…well, our date. Thank you."

"Thank you," said Jack, his gaze intense. "For giving me another chance. I'm sorry I teased you about the hat."

"Yes, well, I knew you would eventually," Ianto grumbled good-naturedly. "I just didn't except it to sting so much." He ran a finger along the black patent leather above the brim. "It reminded me of a lot things. Of who you really were, all the good you've done. Even a bit of what we had before you left." He shrugged and took another drink. "I suppose I don't need it anymore."

Jack set his drink down, picked up the hat, and placed it on Ianto's head. "Keep it," he said, his voice low and quiet as he stepped closer.

"Jack," Ianto started, and Jack placed a finger to his lips. He took Ianto's glass with his other hand and set it down. Ianto couldn't help but shudder at the touch, however innocent. It had been a long time since they'd been so close.

"Keep it," Jack repeated. "Not as a reminder, but as a promise. If I ever have to leave again—and I have no plans to go whatsoever—I will always come back."

Ianto stared at him, mesmerized. "Why?" he finally asked. "Why keep coming back?"

Jack leaned closer. "Because I like that hat," he said, then winked. Ianto pushed him away, yet couldn't help but laugh with Jack. Honestly, it was a relief to break the tension hanging between them. He took off the hat and placed it on Jack's head.

"It looks better on your big head," he said, and Jack grinned again. He grabbed Ianto's hand and pulled him close. Ianto's heart immediately sped up, and he was fairly sure he could feel Jack's heart pounding against his chest.

"Maybe," he said. "It's just a hat, though. I'll come back for _you_."

Ianto would have stepped away if he could have, but Jack was holding him tight. It was almost impossible not to feel Jack's sincerity, and Ianto wasn't sure what it meant, or what to do with it.

"Well, I do make good coffee," Ianto replied. A small frown appeared on Jack's face, which Ianto tried quickly to remove. "Amongst other things."

"Ianto, I—"

"Jack, don't," Ianto said. "Don't say anything you don't mean."

"I meant what I said," Jack said heatedly. "I want to be with you, I—"

Ianto kissed him hard to shut him up; he felt like he was in some clichéd romantic comedy, but it worked. He literally swallowed Jack's words and was rewarded when Jack groaned instead, his arms pulling Ianto even closer.

"Let's take it slow, all right?" Ianto said quietly. "I don't think either one of us is ready for any major declarations right now."

"You mean, wait and see where things go from here?" Jack asked. He almost sounded disappointed

"Oh, well," said Ianto, letting a smirk pull at his lips and his eyes glance toward the bedroom. "I know where I'm hoping to go from here."

He waited a heartbeat, then Jack's eyes went wide. "I can think of few ideas," he said. Falling into familiarity, Ianto nodded.

"There's quite a list," he said, and Jack threw his head back and laughed.

"That is my favorite pick-up line of all time," he said. "Do you still have the stopwatch?"

"It's at the Hub," Ianto mock-sighed.

"I suppose we'll just have to take our time," Jack murmured. He leaned forward for another kiss. Ianto almost melted into it, it had been so long.

"Let's get more comfortable then," he said. He took Jack's hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. Stopping just outside the door, he took off the hat and set it on a nearby table. "I'm not letting it watch," he said when Jack gave him a curious look.

"You never know," Jack said. "You might like bringing it into the bedroom."

Ianto shook his head. "Just you, all right? It's been a while, after all."

Jack kissed him again and they stumbled into the bedroom together. "Just us," he murmured against Ianto's lips. And for that night, it was just them, taking things slow.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got nothing. Hope you liked it. Bit of a hint for what's next, which might be an extra few days as I've caught up to myself now. Enjoy and thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

Alone in the tourist office, Ianto stared at the box sitting on the counter before him. The handwriting and return address told him exactly who the sender was, and he was fairly certain from the size and shape of the box that he knew what was in it. Which was why he was half tempted to toss it in the rubbish bin…no, the incinerator… and tell both Martha and Jack that it must have been lost in the post.

But then Jack came bursting through the door like it was Christmas morning, one hand behind his back as if he were hiding something and grinning like a schoolboy. "Is that it, is that it?" he asked, bouncing on his toes.

Ianto pulled on the blandest look he could manage even though he dreaded opening the box in front of Jack. He was embarrassed to be receiving what could only be described as a sex toy in the mail from a woman he barely knew, even if she was lovely and adorable. Yes, sex with Jack was innovative, but Ianto liked being himself in bed, not dressing up as other people. Sex was for losing himself and letting go, not trying to stay in character. Which was why roleplay was something he'd never tried, even with Jack. The others probably wouldn't have believed it, but there were things he said 'no' to when it came to Jack. Not very many, and dressing up was fairly conservative compared to the things they had tried, but for some reason he wasn't interested.

"I've yet to open it, sir," he finally replied, lost in his thoughts for several moments.

"Well, get on with it!" Jack exclaimed, then smirked. "Because I will definitely make it worth your while, Mr. Jones." He leaned closer and dropped his voice seductively. "Or should I say, Cadet Jones?"

Which was when Ianto realized just how much power he had over Jack at that moment, and how much more he could have if he stepped out of his comfort zone and explored the avant-garde a bit more (though he doubted roleplay was particularly inventive and shuddered to think of what Jack might consider truly avant-garde.) Offering the expected eye roll for the more ridiculous military innuendo, Ianto decided that playing to Jack's kink might have more benefits than a hard shag in his office.

"It is a personal package, sir," he pointed out, watching in fascination as Jack pouted. Not unheard of, but clearly real and not just played for effect. All for want of a hat. Perhaps this was something he could try after all.

"It's for both of us," Jack said, lowering his voice to a provocative purr. Ianto wanted to laugh, but he merely raised an eyebrow instead.

"It's addressed to me," he said, showing Jack the box and easily moving away when Jack reached for it with his free hand. "And I believe I'll open it after work as I suspect it's not related to my Torchwood duties."

Jack stared at him, no clever comeback falling from his lips. Ianto gave himself a point for rendering Jack speechless. "You're joking."

"Not really," said Ianto, allowing a small smile to soften the blow. "I think it would be inappropriate to open it here, sir."

"Probably," said Jack, nodding as he stepped closer, one hand still behind his back. Ianto was fairly sure he knew what Jack was hiding. "Because I'm planning to jump you as soon as you put it on."

"That's assuming the item is not only wearable, but that actually I'd wear it," Ianto replied. Oh, he was definitely enjoying this. Leading Jack on had always been fun, but this was another level completely. There was more than desire in Jack's eyes, there was…desperation? For Ianto? In a hat?

"Better open it and see," Jack said. "If it's not, I'll still jump you later."

Ianto smiled his polite _yes-sir-very-good-sir_ smile and proceeded to open the box as slowly as he could, cutting through the tape carefully and unwrapping the paper without ripping it, then folding it and setting it aside. He could see it driving Jack absolutely mad, which only made Ianto move even more deliberately as he opened the lid and peered inside. Jack was practically drooling next to him.

Ianto frowned, playing at doubt. Jack literally growled under his breath, and Ianto offered a long-practiced sigh. He dug through the paper in the box and felt exactly what he expected, as well as a second item beneath that he thought he recognized. Heart speeding up with excitement at this unexpected development in the game, he glanced inside, pretending to narrow his eyes in confusion. He definitely owed Martha Jones.

"Just some files I asked for," Ianto said, standing up straight and facing Jack. It was obvious he was lying, which was exactly his intent. Jack was in his space immediately, almost chest to chest. It was a classic Jack Harkness tactic, using his physical strength to intimidate, or in this case, his sexual prowess to seduce. Ianto usually found it quite difficult to resist. Jack was attractive, and they had a strong chemistry together, especially when they were close. It was only when he was exhausted or angry that Ianto refused Jack's seductions, and even then, they'd certainly had their share of amazing angry sex, and even a good shag once when Ianto had been three quarters asleep.

"Come on, Ianto," Jack murmured, and Ianto was fairly sure he heard the beginning of a distressed whine in the man's voice. Score another point then. It was an incredible turn on, knowing Jack wasn't playing at neediness, but in fact desperately wanted something that only Ianto could give him. It made the idea of dressing up for Jack that much easier and enticing. "You can wear yours, and I'll wear mine, and we can play captain and cadet." He pulled his hand from behind his back and placed the grey RAF cap on his head at a jaunty angle. Ianto wondered how Jack had come by it, since he had insisted that Ianto keep the hat at his flat; knowing Jack, he'd probably nicked it just so he'd have it ready when Martha's package arrived.

The move was a bit over the top, but as usual, the hat looked fantastic. Yet it was Jack's words that reinforced Ianto's interest and resolve. Cadet? Ianto felt a strong desire to assert himself. Which he'd done before, taking the lead in any number of sexual situations between them, but this was different somehow. He put it down to a number of things they'd been through recently, both personally and professionally, things that often left him confused and doubting whatever it was he had with Jack. He wanted to be the confident one, the one with the constant advantage, and he was determined to wrestle it away from Jack. He was no cadet to Jack's captain, not anymore, and Martha had made sure of that. He still felt a twinge of embarrassment over the idea of playing a role other than himself in bed, but at the same time, he saw what it was doing to Jack, and had to admit the point.

It was damn hot. His trousers were already growing tight.

Very slowly he pulled out the red UNIT beret that Martha had sent and placed it on his head. It felt more comfortable than Jack's RAF cap—not that he had any plans to defect to UNIT, but he could wear a beret almost as well as Jack could wear a peaked cap. And apparently Jack thought so too, because his eyes went wide, his smile grew positively predatory, and his hips pressed Ianto back against the counter. Ianto held up a finger.

"There's more," he said, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. He hadn't this much fun teasing Jack since the night the Inorva feathers had fallen through the Rift and he'd spent several hours exploring each and every one of Jack's erogenous zones with them. Very carefully Ianto pulled out a black ceremonial cross belt, and watched as Jack almost melted into a puddle. He wasn't aware UNIT officers even wore them anymore and doubted it was official dress, but Martha apparently knew Jack's combination of military and archaic tastes well enough to find one somewhere. And she had somehow guessed Ianto's game by sending one with the badge of a UNIT Major-General.

Ianto pulled it slowly over his head, the black sash cutting across his purple shirt in a striking manner. Ianto thought that maybe he'd let Jack try it on, because Jack actually flushed, his breath picking up and his lips parting subconsciously, and if Jack thought Ianto looked that good, he wanted to see Jack in it as well. Possibly naked and without the badge, of course.

"I believe I outrank you, Captain," Ianto whispered in Jack's ear. He had never felt more ridiculous and yet more powerful and turned on. Jack had been teasing him about the RAF cap ever since Ianto had found it stuffed in the filing cabinet; he'd suggested bringing it into the bedroom more than once since they'd started sleeping together, something Ianto had not seriously considered. He'd accepted the hat as many things, even a bit of a kink, but roleplay had not interested him…until now. Until seeing Jack's reaction and feeling his own growing desire.

Jack was staring at him, as if bewitched by the sight. Ianto cocked his head. "Something wrong, Captain?" he asked, injecting a hint of authority into his voice. Jack's eyes snapped up to his, and his mouth moved a few times before finally settling into a small frown, laced with uncertainty. Jack was unsure of how to take in the situation, how to respond, probably because of Ianto's previous reticence toward Jack's suggestions. He offered Jack a nod and a small smile and immediately saw Jack's entire body relax. He then snapped to attention and gazed over Ianto's shoulder, apparently in character.

"Sir, no sir," he barked, and Ianto's trousers grew even tighter. Oh, he could definitely get used to _that._ No wonder Jack liked the _sir_ when Ianto used it at work; it was brilliant in play.

"At ease, Captain," he murmured. He walked around Jack, pretending to inspect when he was actually taking another opportunity to admire and think ahead. Hadn't Jack once offered to pull on the rest of the uniform for Ianto? Why in the world had Ianto never taken him up on it?

"Report to your bunker…" He glanced at his watch, gaging the time they'd need for this new endeavor. It had been a quiet afternoon, and Ianto had no doubt that Jack could send the others home early with little excuse. "At 1800 hundred hours."

Jack nodded and Ianto stepped in front of him, heart beating wildly. He took Jack's chin in his hand and directed his gaze at Ianto. "In full dress, Captain," he whispered. He felt Jack pushing forward, seeking out his lips, and stopped him. He shook his head, Jack's mouth dropped open in surprise, and Ianto stepped back, enjoying the sensation of being in charge, though he wondered how long it would last.

"Dismissed," he said, and Jack snapped to attention. His face was straight as he gazed ahead and saluted, then turned on his heels and left without a word, again perfectly in character. Ianto let out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding, his shoulders sagging. He'd done it, pulled off something he'd never imagined, and it had felt _amazing._ He smiled to himself, wrapped up in thoughts of later, and didn't realize Jack hadn't left the office until he was being kissed to within an inch of his life. He returned the kiss with equal vigor, tempted to pull Jack through the beaded curtain into his small office in the back, bunker and dress uniform be damned. Jack kissed him hard, sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and then pulled away with a slow pop.

"1800 hours, Major," he said quietly. "Don't be late."

"Don't start without me, Captain," Ianto tossed back. Jack grinned, and Ianto grinned with him, surprised at how comfortable he was with this new development. Neither of them moved from their embrace.

"Time to send the troops home," said Jack. He sighed and stepped back, his hand running along the beret, down the cross belt over Ianto's chest. "God, you're amazing."

"You're not so bad yourself," Ianto replied, trying not to blush. "Go close shop. I'll be down in ten."

Jack kissed him again. "Ten minutes and counting," he murmured. Ianto took the RAF cap from his head and placed it in Jack's hand, then turned him and pushed him toward the door. Jack grinned, and Ianto watched him leave before taking off the beret hat and belt, still surprised at how easy it had been, wondering what it would be like to continue.

He placed them back in the box, which was when he noticed a note at the bottom. From Martha. Smiling to himself, he took out the envelop and read the card inside.

_To a fellow Jones, for your innovative dabbling. Jack thinks you look good in red, but I suspect he thinks you look good in anything and everything. In fact, I know he does. It's more than dabbling, Ianto. Never doubt that. I don't know Jack as well as you, but I know how much he cares. He's a good man, and so are you. I can see how good you are for him. Take care of each other, and don't forget to have some fun._

_All my best, Martha._

Ianto stared at it, shook his head, and placed it in his jacket pocket so that Jack never found it. He wasn't sure if she was right about their dabbling, but he would at least take some of her advice and have fun with the unexpected gift. Perhaps if it worked out, there would be other roles to play in the future.

And other hats to wear.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Taamar for looking this over! It's taken me a bit longer as these sorts of things don't come naturally to my writing. Hopefully it reads well enough, whether you think Ianto was into this particular thing or not. And please don't pick on the cross belt/Major-General bit. UNIT is a fictional organization so it's entirely possible that cross belts were part of their uniform at some point. And as much as I looked (and I read quite a bit about cross belts and ranks), I couldn't find a breakdown of UNIT ranks and how they compared to the RAF. Just saying. And the last chapter might take a bit longer, but hopefully I'll finish this week! Thank you and enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

VIII.

It was late at night, and the world was asleep, dreaming of a better future, safe from aliens and politics. The building before him was dark and silent as the occupants slept peacefully, all except one, the one who would never return. The man on the street gazed at the top right window, working himself up to entering one last time.

He didn't sleep, not anymore. When he closed his eyes, all he saw were the faces of the dead, staring at him with angry eyes, silently accusing him. So many, dead and gone because of him. Which was why he was leaving as well.

Quietly entering the building, he let himself into the flat with his key. The key he'd been given after a flippant remark, a key he'd none-the-less treasured for the invitation it had extended and the trust implicit in that invitation. It hadn't been just a key for the flat, but another step into the occupant's life. He'd accepted the gesture, and they'd celebrated as they usually did, with amazing sex. And then they'd quickly fallen into a comfortable sort of domesticity: cooking meals together, watching movies, occasionally sleeping in. Many if not most of his personal belongings were still in the flat; though he'd lost a lot at the Hub, what really mattered was still waiting for him here.

He stood at the threshold in the dark, unable to move forward, unable to even breathe for a moment. The loss hit him all over again, that Ianto was dead, gone forever. And that it was his fault. Always his fault. Tosh, Owen, Steven, Ianto.

Stuffing a fist into his mouth, Jack stifled his sobs, then steeled himself to keep going. He needed to do this, and he needed to do it alone. Gwen had offered to come with him, had even suggested perhaps Ianto's sister might help, but this was his fault, his job, and his chance to say goodbye. He would do it himself, no matter the cost. He owed it to Ianto.

He moved first to the kitchen, to begin with the easiest task, clearing out the pantry. Bin it all and not worry about ever eating breakfast with Ianto again, or cooking dinner, or sharing a pizza at the counter at two in the morning. But to his surprise the kitchen had already been cleared. There wasn't even any coffee, and Jack fought back tears once more as he realized that he'd never share another cup with Ianto. Not here, not at the Hub, not anywhere.

There was a note on the counter from Ianto's sister, Rhiannon. It was addressed to him.

_Captain Harkness,_

_I went ahead and cleaned out the food since Ms. Cooper said it might be a while before you returned. Please call when it's time to do the rest. I didn't feel right going through the flat when so much might be yours. I know my brother cared about you, and that he died doing what he believed in, by your side. If you need anything, you come over and stay with us._

_Rhiannon Davies_

Crumpling up the note, Jack stuffed it in his pocket and glanced around. He wanted to keep the coffeemaker, but what would he do with it? He couldn't make half the cup that Ianto could anyway. Yet it been important to them both, and maybe someday he could learn. While normally the entire life of a Torchwood agent was placed in storage after their death, Jack didn't see the need anymore; Torchwood was gone. What use was there for dishes and toasters and hoovers in storage? He'd keep only what he wanted personally, along with any sensitive Torchwood materials. The rest could go to Ianto's sister. So he set aside the coffee maker, and their favorite mugs, and the ridiculous apron Jack had often worn to make spaghetti Bolognese.

He moved to the living room, glancing around and once again feeling the hot tears in his eyes. Wiping them away, he stalked out to the car he'd hired from London and grabbed several boxes from the trunk. Staring at the sky, he took several deep breaths before going back in. He could do this; he had to.

Opening the boxes, he first packed away the few items he'd taken from the kitchen, then began on the living room. Ianto's favorite Bond movie, a few cds, several pictures of his family, of Lisa, of Jack and the team. The shabby pillow from the sofa, a blanket that still smelled faintly of Ianto. A bottle of scotch that they'd shared the night before the children had all stopped and had left on the table.

Three boxes so far, and Jack didn't even know where he'd put them. The Hub was destroyed, and he didn't want Ianto's life lost in a locker somewhere. Maybe Gwen would keep it, until Jack knew what to do with it. Taking a deep breath, he moved toward the bedroom.

It was exactly as they had left it the morning they'd rushed out to retrieve the alien hitchhiker from the hospital. Rumpled sheets and pillows, clothes draped on a chair, the dresser a collection of cufflinks and books and other miscellaneous detritus of their life together. Jack stared at it, his heart pounding, unable to step inside. He couldn't. He would never share the bed with Ianto again, never fall into it together, wake up wrapped in each other's arms. Ianto would never complain about the mess again, never join him in the shower, never kiss him good night or good morning.

What did he keep, what did he let go? He didn't even know where to start, until his eyes came to rest on the closet. He hurried over and opened the door, the organized line of Ianto's suits greeting him from the dark depths of despair. The tears fell freely now, why hold them back? This was worse than anything yet, clean-cut suits with no man to fill them. Jack reached first for the tie rack, taking each one and letting them run through his hands…the blue and grey one, the black and red one, the one that he wore with the pink shirt, the one Jack had bought him, the one they'd appropriated for other activities…

And there on the top shelf, a hat.

Two hats.

A red beret, a grey RAF cap. Side by side. Jack vividly remembered the last time they'd worn them. It had taken Ianto a while to warm up to the idea, but once he'd realized how much fun a bit of roleplay could be, he'd thrown himself into it, like he had everything else in his life. And it had been fun—good, old-fashioned fun. Hot and filled with laughs, which was how Jack wanted to remember Ianto. Not the pain and heartache that had plagued so much of their relationship, but the good times, moments of laughter and hope, love and affection. It some ways, it had started with the hat.

Jack took them down carefully, slowly. He ran his finger along the red beret, remembering how it had looked so perfect perched on Ianto's dark hair. With a sad smile, Jack placed the beret on his own head and gazed in the mirror above the dresser. He almost didn't recognize himself. The red washed him out, leaving the dark circles under his dull eyes even more prominent. With a sad sigh, he went back to his task, leaving the other hat for last. He saved ties and books and cufflinks. A suit, Ianto's own box of mementos, their favorite set of sheets. Some toys, another photo, Ianto's aftershave. And Ianto's diary, which he certainly couldn't open now, not without breaking down completely. He'd read it another day, keep it for a thousand years.

As he made his way through the flat one last time, Jack allowed himself to feel everything all over again: grief, loss, pain, anger. He shouted, he cursed, he cried, he kicked the chair, punched the wall. He wanted to purge all the pain and heartache and leave it behind, carry only the good memories with him. Their short time together, packed into six boxes of his life with Ianto Jones.

He thought about leaving the RAF cap. Perhaps for Ianto's sister, but she wouldn't understand the significance of it. He could give it to Gwen, but she wouldn't understand either, and she'd badger him to explain something that Jack could never tell her. He could donate it, but it was an important part of his life, and he didn't want to think of it being used as a costume prop.

In the end, he decided to keep it with him, as a tangible and sentimental reminder of his life with Ianto. He set the red beret on top of some of Ianto's ties and taped the last box shut, then took them to the car and returned to the flat to say his last goodbye. Ianto's presence surrounded him, and it was all he could do to not collapse from the overwhelming grief. How could he stay here, without him? What was the point?

There was none. It was over. Ianto was gone, and Jack was leaving.

It was time to start a new life, in a new place, with new people, and perhaps someday, a new hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the exceptionally late update. I must confess that I wrote this months and months ago, but it was too sad for me to edit. And then it was too sad for me to post…at least, not without an epilogue. Stay tuned. The story of the hat is not quite over. Thank you for still reading!


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue.

Gravestones were strangely unique to Earth. Few other species buried their dead and marked their place; most burned the bodies and scattered the ashes to the winds and seas. Intended as a poignant memorial to lost loved ones, instead they littered the planet as stark reminders of death, come for everyone but him, taunting him with the names of all those he'd lost over the years.

Jack hated graveyards. Bare rocks standing upon dirt, empty platitudes carved in stone, dead flowers scattering the landscape: it felt meaningless and desperate. At first, he'd visited frequently to remember those he'd lost; as the years ticked by and everyone died but him, he began to avoid them more and more. He felt nothing but pain and anger as he stood before the names of past friends and lovers. Most had died and left him too soon; others he'd had years with. Yet all had gone now, every last one, and only he remained, alone for eternity.

Standing before this particular stone hurt more than most. This man had been special, though their time had been short and contentious, fraught with obstacles and issues that always kept them from truly realizing what they had until it was too late. Until Jack was holding his lover in his arms as he died and only confessing his love to a ghost months later. It was one of his biggest regrets of a long life full of them. Not that he'd loved Ianto Jones, but that he'd never told him.

Glancing around, Jack sighed, his heart heavy and sad. Wales was so different, he recognized it less and less each time he returned. Climate change was wreaking havoc on the entire planet; it was a wonder that the graveyard was still there, and not destroyed by development or rising waters. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Jack looked down at the headstone before him and felt his heart break all over again.

_Ianto Jones.  
1983-2009_

He did not cry, however. He was not there to mourn; he'd done that years ago, and for decades after. No, he was there to say goodbye. To leave behind all the lives he'd led on Earth once and for all and take his place among the stars, never to return. He couldn't do it anymore. Every time he came back he was reminded of what he'd lost. He knew he should be glad for all he'd experienced and gained, for the lovers he kept in his heart, but it was _too much._ No man had lived as long as he had and lost so much. He was too tired, mind, body, and soul, and he couldn't do this anymore—living but never dying. Not on Earth.

Pulling his leather duster close around him to shut out the chill of the cool spring morning, Jack began to speak.

"I lost the coat," he said. "Last year. I know you loved the coat, but honestly, it was okay. I probably should have set it aside years ago. If I want another one, I know where to go. Or when. Besides, this one is much more fashionable where I'll be going."

A soft wind blew through the trees, rustling the branches as if asking a silent question. "Where am I going? Well, I'm leaving. Again, only this time I'm not coming back." A nearby bird let out a lonely cry, and Jack laughed bitterly at the sound. "No, not that—not death. No, I'm leaving Earth, once and for all. I've got my own ship now, and I'm heading toward the other side of the known universe. Lots to see and do. Think I'll be there for a long time. She's a beauty—sleek, supple, hyperdrive that goes on for miles."

A squirrel chittered nearby, as if laughing. "Yes, my ship is damn sexy. I wish you could see her. I think the spacefaring life would fit you. So that's my plan, and I came to say goodbye one last time."

Jack crouched low, running his fingers over the letters carved in stone, smiling as he remembered the man long buried beneath them. "I've been here so many times over the years. You may not be much of a talker, but you're a good listener. Thank you for that. But I can't keep coming back, putting myself through the loss of everything I loved here over and over. It's too hard. I have to put it behind me, start over."

He hung his head, his voice falling to a whisper. "I thought about Retconning myself, but I don't know what that much Retcon would do to even me. Besides, I have so many good memories of this planet…this place…you."

The sun broke through the clouds then, its pale rays dotting the otherwise gray and barren graveyard. Jack felt the warmth on his face and smiled. He sat down, pulled his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes. "We didn't have much time together," he said, "and so much of it was hard. God, we were so stupid sometimes! So stubborn, so proud! I'd like to think I learned something, that I learned to be more open, more willing to love. I don't know if I did. I know I've still hurt people in my time. I know I hurt you."

The wind seemed to caress his cheek, touching his hair in forgiveness. "And I will always regret that," Jack murmured. "Knowing how many times I hurt you because I was too scared to do anything else but hold you at arm's length. I never wanted to hurt you, I wanted to protect you. You were too good for me, you know. Too good for me, and for Torchwood. You deserved so much more."

Jack sat silently for a long moment. "I wish we could have had more time, that I could have tried to be everything you deserved. I think it would have been amazing. But I can't keep thinking about what could have been, and every time I come back here, that's all I think about. It's time I left Earth behind for good. Or at least for a few millennia." He laughed silently through his nose, the cool breeze sighing with him.

"So this is me, saying goodbye. I'll always remember you. You may not believe that, but I will. In a thousand years' time, I will remember you, Ianto Jones. Your face, your smile, your wit, your brilliance, your empathy, your suits, your coffee—all of it. Everything you did for me, everything you meant to me. I will remember."

Jack stood up, took a battered old RAF hat from where it perched upon his head, clashing with his coat. It was ancient now, faded and tattered. He ran his fingers across the patent leather and along the wool, caressing it one last time. "I don't need this to remember, though. I'm leaving it for you, so I can move on. I know you liked it almost as much as the coat. It was such a part of my life here, and with you, that I think it's holding me back. I have to let it go."

He bent down and set it before the grave, settling it into the grass, covering it with a small pile of leaves to protect it for a few days at least from scavengers and thieves, though he doubted many came to the graveyard anymore.

It was hard, standing up and leaving the hat at his feet. A part of him felt like it would be all right, because he was leaving it with Ianto, but at the same time, the hat meant more to him than just about anything else he owned. It was like leaving behind a piece of himself, a core part of his identity. Yet he had to move on, he knew that; so he forced himself to step backward once, then twice, and again until he felt the impulse to reach down and take it back begin to release its hold on him.

"I loved you, Ianto Jones, " Jack said softly, letting his eyes slip closed. "Good-bye."

He turned and began to walk away, though his steps faltered the farther he walked. His legs felt like lead, and his heart started to pound. He couldn't do it, he couldn't leave the hat behind. It was his only remaining connection to Ianto, to his long life on Earth. The wind blew his coat open and he shivered; he took another step, and it increased. He felt like it was pushing him back, silently urging him to turn around and give in to the instinct to pick up the cap. He gave in.

Turning back toward the gravestone, Jack watched as the wind tumbled the hat away from its resting place before the marble. He took a step to run after it, his hand outstretched, but realized it must be the universe's way of telling him what to do: walk away. Leave it behind. He turned and let his head fall, refusing to cry. It was only a hat, and he was leaving anyway.

No, he couldn't leave it behind. It was _more_ than a hat. It was a concrete memory of his life, of his time with Ianto, one that he could hold in his hand, not just his heart. Here it would fade into dust and dirt alongside the grey stones of the graveyard, but with him, it could live on, reminding him of years that were good, nights that were even better. He needed the hat, and those memories, more than anything. He'd been a fool to think he could give it up. A raucous bird crowed at him from a tree, as if shouting at him to do something, to go after it.

Whirling around again once more, Jack stopped in his tracks when he saw a man next to the gravestone, standing straight and tall and silent. He was wearing a black three-piece suit under a grey peacoat, gazing at the hat in his hands with a small smile on his face. And when he glanced up, Jack's heart exploded within his chest.

"You shouldn't leave this lying about, sir," said Ianto, brushing some dirt from the hat. "It is an antique, after all."

"Ianto?" Jack asked, staring at the man before him in shock. Was it real? Or was he imagining it? Did it matter? He stepped forward cautiously, not wanting to ruin the vision he'd longed for more than anything. "Ianto Jones?"

"Welcome back, sir," Ianto murmured. "To Earth, that is."

"Don't call me that," Jack replied. "Please, not now."

Ianto raised an eyebrow as the wind ruffled his hair. "I thought you rather liked it."

"I did," Jack said. "But not now…what's happening? Are you really here?"

"Standing at my own grave?" Ianto glanced down, then shrugged. "Stranger things have happened, though not many."

"How?" Jack tried not to let himself hope, but he couldn't help it. He'd never believed in miracles before, but maybe he would now, if the universe was not playing tricks on him.

"Does it really matter how, Jack?" Ianto asked. "I assure you it's nothing lurid, no deals with the devil or anything like that."

"But…why?" Jack asked. "Why now? It's been so long," he whispered

Ianto took a tentative step forward. He gazed down at the hat, then caught Jack's eyes with an unsure, almost nervous look on his face. "You should keep this," he said. "You are a captain, after all, and I heard you might need a new crew."

"Crew?" Jack had rarely been at such a loss for words, but his heart was about to beat out of his chest and his tongue felt tied up in knots.

"I believe her name is _Myfanwy_ ," Ianto replied, then smirked. "Did you name her after the dinosaur, I wonder, or the old song?" The squirrel nearby chittered again; Jack was certain it was laughing now.

"Both," Jack murmured. "But mostly I named her for you."

Ianto sighed. "Jack, I've been gone for years. Years upon years. I'm flattered, but why not something else, like the _Boeshane Babe_ or something?"

"You didn't think I'd remember you, but I do. All the time," Jack replied. "And I don't want to forget once I leave."

Ianto was silent as he walked up to Jack and held out the hat. "Then take me with you."

"What?"

"Take me with you. You said the spacefaring life would suit me. I want to see this amazing hyperdrive." He rolled his eyes. "Assuming we're actually talking about hyperdrives."

"You're serious," Jack whispered. "You're really here, and you want to go with me."

Ianto glanced around as he tucked his hands into his pockets and nodded, clearly nervous. Around them, the wind stilled, the grey clouds looming overhead, as if in silent expectation. "That would be about right, yes."

"Why?"

"I told you once, a long time ago. Because I love you. And I know you loved me. I only hope you might find it within you to do so again."

Jack was stunned by the vulnerability and courage of the man before him. He was putting it all on the line; for all Ianto knew, Jack could have a harem of husbands and wives on board his ship, waiting for him to return to bed. He didn't, of course he didn't, but Ianto didn't know that, if this was actually Ianto and not some figment of Jack's imagination taunting him with hope.

"I never stopped loving you," he said, his voice breaking. He took a breath and reached out for the hat. "Welcome aboard."

Ianto stepped close enough to place the cap on Jack's head, gazing into Jack's eyes with a small smile until he took Jack's face in his hands and kissed him, passionately and hard. Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto, pulling him close as he felt the emptiness within him filled, the loneliness pushed away. And he felt other things, of course, mostly in his trousers, but that could wait until later. Right now he wasn't alone anymore, and he was determined to reacquaint himself with snogging Ianto Jones senseless.

When they finally moved apart to catch their breath, Jack rested his forehead against Ianto's, letting his shaking hands roam across the Welshman's shoulders, along his jaw. Above them, the sun broke through the clouds once more, bathing them in its subtle warmth. "I can't believe you're here," Jack whispered again. "With me."

"And ready to explore the universe," Ianto replied, his voice catching as well. "By your side."

Jack reached down and took his hand. "And I will show you the universe," he replied. "By _your_ side."

Ianto rolled his eyes at their sentimental turn toward complete schmaltz, but followed him from the graveyard, holding tight to Jack's hand. Jack laughed out loud as they walked, his heart ready to burst with joy. He'd come to say goodbye, to leave his life on Earth behind and turn once more toward the stars. Instead he was leaving with the one man he'd wanted more than any other. He'd seen so much over the years, from time travel to resurrection gloves to nanogenes, but Jack had never imagined it possible, that he would see Ianto Jones again.

It was as if the universe finally saw fit to let him experience a happy ending for once in his long life. Jack was determined to do it right this time, and to make it last for as long as he could. A new life together, among the stars, with Ianto.

And once again, it all began with the hat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!  
> Many thanks to Avaantares, whose initial fanart of a scene by Peter Anghelides in "Another Life" inspired this entire story. And who helped me hammer out the epilogue, because we all need a little bit of hope in our lives, that Jack and Ianto had their happily ever after. I hope you enjoyed this story even through any tears. Thank you for reading – let a girl know what you thought, yeah? It helps keep the muse alive and inspiring!


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